Flux

asleep.

Chapter Four
    h

    I t was a rough jarring motion that woke him, nothing like the gentle bobbing he’d become used to. He opened his eyes and for one terrible moment he was certain that Ennek was dead.
    Ennek was on his knees, unmoving, his body slumped over the tiller.
    Miner cried out and scrambled ungracefully to his lover. As he moved, though, the jollyboat bounced again and he realized with a jolt that they had reached land: the boat was bumping up against the smooth stones of a small beach.
    “Oh, Ennek, what did you do?” he moaned. But of course Ennek didn’t answer.
    On closer examination, Ennek proved to be breathing—barely. There was a wheezing sound as if each inhalation was a burden. His skin was cool and clammy, and under the cold starlight it looked the color of thin milk. Miner repositioned him so he was lying on the bottom of the boat, but Ennek didn’t react to his panicked shouts.
    Surely getting onto dry land would be an improvement, Miner thought. He hesitated before hopping out of the boat, though. The water might be very shallow here but it was still the ocean, and that continued to make him uneasy. His pause was fortunate because it then occurred to him that he ought to take off his boots, which were finally dry. So he kicked them off and stuck the scabbard in his waistband instead. His heart was already racing over Ennek’s condition, but it seemed to clench tight in his chest as soon as he tensed his muscles to hop over the boat’s side. It took another look at Ennek’s motionless form to force him into movement.
    The water was…just water. Cool. Wet. Soft little wavelets playing around his knees. Nothing threatening. And yet he was terrified. He used his good hand to grab the rope attached to the bow and he tucked more of the rope under his left arm and then he tugged, leading the vessel further ashore. He didn’t stop until it came completely aground. Then he reached in and, as carefully as possible, hoisted Ennek. He was able to stagger only a few yards inland before he collapsed to the ground; fortunately, he was able to shield Ennek from the worst of the fall. Ennek didn’t regain consciousness.
    Miner arranged him as comfortably as possible and pulled the jolly boat several feet more, hoping that would be enough to keep it from washing away on the tide. He retrieved his boots and the blanket and canvas bag, then after slipping the boots back on, folded the bag under Ennek’s head as a sort of pillow and covered his legs and lower torso with the blanket.
    He had to sit and rest for several minutes after that, but he took the opportunity to peer through the darkness to assess where they were. As it turned out, there wasn’t much to see. Their beach was a sort of tiny cove. Jagged rocks rose on either side of the cove’s mouth, while behind him, the pebbled beach gave way to sandy undulations covered in scrubby grass and prickly flowers. He couldn’t see what lay farther inland than that.
    There were no sounds aside from the lapping water and, some distance away, a metallic-sounding insect chorus. No obvious immediate dangers, at least. Of course, traumatic danger wasn't really necessary, not with Ennek barely clinging to life and Miner feeling so weak and lightheaded he feared that he would collapse as well.
    Water. They needed fresh water.
    Miner slowly rose to his feet. His legs felt wobbly and he tripped over the little tufts of vegetation as he stumbled his way through the night in search of water.
    And perhaps for once the gods were in a kindly mood, because as Miner rounded one of the great rocks he found a little trickle of water dripping from the top and pooling in a natural stone basin. He got down on his knees to lap at it, and although it tasted thick with minerals it was fresh and wonderful.
    He had to think then about how to get the water back to Ennek. It occurred to him that he could use one of his boots—not very palatable, perhaps, but he had nothing else that would hold liquid. Unfortunately, the rough treatment his footwear had recently suffered had caused the seams to give, and although he could fill the boots with water, it would all drain out long before he reached Ennek.
    Perhaps if it had been daytime he might have found something to carry the water. A shell, maybe. Or he might have fashioned a makeshift cup with some difficulty, using his one good hand. But it was dark and he was exhausted and his mind was too sluggish for inspiration.